


Hope is the Thing with Feathers

by orphan_account



Series: Feathers [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - No One Ring, Cultural Differences, Drabble, Internal Monologue, M/M, Pre-Slash, wing!verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-03-08 04:26:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3195275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin shows Bilbo his wings.</p><p>Prequel to Feathers that Flutter and Fly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hope is the Thing with Feathers

Thorin had never been comfortable with his bindings off. It had always been drilled into him since he was old enough to be told such things that one’s wings were not meant to be publicly displayed.

Bilbo, on the other hand, had no such inhibitions.

“Come on!” he threw a pillow at Thorin now from where he was bouncing on the bed. “You promised you’d show me!” Bilbo’s own wings, vibrant and translucent, twitched, and Thorin tries not to look at them for too long. Bilbo jumps again, and instead of landing on his feet he lets himself fall onto his knees. “I want to see them!”

Although they’re alone, Thorin feels incredibly vulnerable. “I don’t...”

“You promised,” Bilbo reiterates, shuffling over to the edge of the bed. “I won’t laugh, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Thorin rolls his eyes. As if Bilbo would laugh at anyone for anything; he was far too kind-hearted for such rudeness. “It’s not that.”

Bilbo looks up at him with his big blue eyes, and Thorin’s stomach flips. “Then what is it?” he wonders.

“Only my parents have ever seen them,” he says.

Bilbo shrugs. “So?”

“It’s a private thing,” Thorin grouses.

“Do you not trust me?” he looks a little hurt, and Thorin feels guilty for no real reason. It’s the puppy eyes that do it.

“Of course I trust you,” he tells Bilbo.

“Then why the big deal?”

“I-”

“You’ve seen _mine_.”

“Yes, but-”

Bilbo reaches out and tugs at his tunic. “Come on,” he whines, impatient. “I’ve never seen a Dwarf’s wings before.”

“There’s a reason for that,” Thorin informs him, but complies nonetheless and begins to undress. “This is so embarrassing.”

“You should have clothes like me,” Bilbo declares now, turning so Thorin can see the small cuts up the back of his nightclothes so his wings can slip through comfortably. He shows this to Thorin as if Thorin wasn’t one of the people who helped get the damn thing made in the first place.

He hesitates when he’s down to his bindings, but just inhales deeply and unbuckles and removes them in one fowl swoop.

Thorin keeps his eyes closed, because he knows his face is red from embarrassment and he just can’t stand seeing Bilbo’s expression right now. He can feel his wings unfurling, stretching out to their proper size awkwardly, not used to being allowed such movement.

“Can I touch them?” comes the murmured question.

Thorin opens his eyes slowly and pointedly avoids eye contact. He shrugs. “I guess.” He’s very avidly looking at the small mole just at the corner of Bilbo’s mouth; it’s much easier than meeting his eyes.

Slowly, Bilbo reaches out, and Thorin jumps a little at the feel of fingers running through his feathers.

“They’re bent,” Bilbo remarks. “You don’t brush them?”

Thorin just shakes his head. “Can I put my bindings back on now?”

“You don’t feel better with them off?”

“I feel uncomfortable.”

Bilbo pulls his hand away. “You could at least brush them,” he tells Thorin as he struggles with the bands. “Let me help.” He slides off the bed and reaches out.

Thorin turns so Bilbo can help fold his wings so they nestle into his back.

“They’re unruly,” he can hear Bilbo grin as he says it. “They don’t like to be bound.”

“They don’t have any choice,” Thorin utters as Bilbo tightens the straps. His fingers brush against Thorin’s bare skin by accident and his heart spikes a little, but he doesn’t say anything. Bilbo wouldn’t understand anyway, he was too young.

“You always have a choice,” Bilbo tells him. “You could choose to be comfortable.”

Thorin just snorts. “Get some sleep,” he says now, straightening his clothes out. “Balin’s seeing you bright and early for your lesson tomorrow, and then you have training.”

Bilbo groans. “Why can’t I just spend time in the gardens in Dale?”

“Because you have other things to do; duties to attend to. Just like the rest of us.”

“Why do I have duties?” he whines. “I’m not the one who’s going to be King. I’m not even a Dwarf!”

“Dwarf or not you are part of this family and will behave accordingly. Now go on, into bed with you; and no more jumping.”

“You’re no fun,” Bilbo grouses, but nevertheless scrambles into bed and under the covers. He’s still so tiny, and the large bed swamps him so much it’s almost like he’s in a sea of blankets. Thorin tries not to laugh. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

“I’ll try,” Thorin promises, and he will. He doesn’t like spending a day without seeing Bilbo. But they’re both getting older, and they can’t do things like this for much longer- it would be unbecoming enough for a grown Dwarrow to be spending his nights in another’s bedroom, let alone for a future King to be doing such things. He was seventy-nine now, and it won’t be long until someone sat him down and pointed out that even though Bilbo was so young by Dwarven standards, he was nearly of maturation, and soon enough would be an adult himself; and that Thorin should not be slipping in and out of his room like this.

Thorin supposes it might not be such a bad thing, in the end. They’d have to spend more time together outside of night time, and it might push Thorin to be a little braver and perhaps explain to Bilbo that what was between them wasn’t just friendship.

Not now, though. He’d wait until Bilbo was of age, and then he’d explain everything. By then Balin would have taught him a great deal more in his lessons, and he’d be more versed in the ways of the court- he’d have most of the knowledge required to be a consort. Not that such a thing was very close to fruition; Thorin’s father was hardly in the decline of his life, and would no doubt have at least another half a century on the throne before abdicating to Thorin. They’d have plenty of time to prepare for it.

That is if Bilbo was agreeable to it. After all, Hobbit’s done have Ones. They’re odd creatures that wear their wings freely and like gardening and tend not to enjoy dwelling beneath mountains. Bilbo may only think of Thorin as a close companion.

But he’s getting too far ahead of himself. For now he just needs to wait… which he isn’t very good at.

He sighs as he heads back to his quarters. “Mahal help me.”

 

 


End file.
